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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMEEICA. 



iKiii 



THE 



SILENT DORMITORY 



AND 



OTHER POEMS 



BY 

A LA 

[KOR PRIVATK circulation] 




COPYRIOnT, 1887, BY 

JOHN LOCKWOOD 

116 Nassau St., New York. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Dedication, - - " - - ^ _ 7 

Not by Death's Portal, - . - „ g 

I. 

THE SILENT LAND. 

Between Two Silences, - - - - 10 

The Silent Dormitory, - - . - 11 

Out of the Silence ; or, the Night-Blooming Cactus, 16 

Deathless, - - - . - - 21 

Theo ; or, from out the Light, - - - 23 

Desolate, - - - - - - 25 

No More ! .-..-. 27 

The Little Shoes, - - - - - 29 

Fading Away, - - - - - - 30 

Silent, -----_. 31 

Unbound, - - - - - - 32 • 

An Epitaph, ----.. 32 



4: CONTENTIS. 

II. 

THE GOOD, THE TRUE, AND THE BEAUTIFUL. 

Goodness, Truth, Ecaut}', - - - - 34 

The Princeliest, - - - - - C5 

Morning, - - - - - - oG 

Thy Constancy, - - ' - - k^ 

Beloved of Nature, - - - - - C3 

Mother and Babe, - - - - - 40 

Affliction, 41 

The Spider-Soul, 44 

Ox, Horse, and I, - - - - - 45 

Planting the Ivy, - - - - - 47 

Transformation, - - - - - 48 

Plod Along, - •'>0 

A Lover Fine, - - - - - - 53 

The Hunted Deer, - - * - - 54 

Patience Superior to Defeat, - - - - 55 

The Sacredness of Life, - - - .55 

Religion Undefiled, - - - - - 5G 

Christ Within, - - - - - - 5G 



CONTENTS. 5 

III. 
YESTERDAY, TO DAY, AND TO-MORROW. 

Le Roi Est Mort! Vive le Roi I - - - 68 

The Stream of Time, - - - - - 59 

The Mystery, - - -■ - - - 59 

To-Day, - - - - - - CO 

What Preparation ? - - - - - CI 

As Thou Hast Sown, - - - - - C3 

Apollo ? or Harpy ? - - - - - G3 

The Peerless Flower, - - - . . G3 

Forsaken, _-->.. 66 

Baby's Halo, -..-.. 78 

Black Eyes and Blue, - - - - - 79 

Burying His Yesterdays, - - - - 80 

Till It Runneth O'er, - - - - - 80 

Was E'er Such Friend ? _ .... 82 

Mayst Hobble into Heaven, - - - - 83 

The Hand from out the Mist, - - - - 85 

A Necessary Medicine, - - - - 86 

All That 's Left Thee, 88 

Delilah, 89 



CONTENTS, 

IV. 

TPIE FIRESIDE. 



True-Love, 
To My Mother, 
To My Sister, 
Tpeed Thy May, 
J ly Earthly Paradise, 



93 
93 
94 
96 

98 



On the Landing of The Princess Louise in Canada, - 99 
Y/ithout Her Blessing ? _ . - . 108 

When Fortune Fails, - - - - - 111 

Charity, - - - - - - 111 

Bon Voyage! - - - - . - 113 

This Maketh Two, - - - » ,112 



DEDICATED 
TO MY MOTHER, 

IN HONOR OF 

HER NINETY-FIRST BIRTHDAY: 

A TOKEN OF 

LOVE, REVERENCE AND GRATITUDE. 



NOT BY DEATH'S POETAL. 

Though time be the fleetest 

That love ever slew, 
Though love be the sweetest 

That time ever knew, 
No years ever chased one another 

Like these that I live in thy presence, 
O darling, O saint, O my mother ; 

Nor love in its earthly quintessence 
Like thine, all boundaries scorning, 
That o'erfloods the house like the morning. 
Pass, Death ; she enters not by thy portal. 
For Love and she are one and immortal. 



I. 

THE SILENT LAiro. 



BETWEEN TWO SILENCES. 

1 

Out of the East, his quiet house of rest, 

The sun comes forth, and wanders all day long 

In heaven's free prairie ; till at even-song 
He goes into his house of sleep, the West. 

2 

A little child, rosy from cradle-sleep. 

Comes bounding out-of-doors with sweet sunrise, 
With sunbeams plays, and grass and butterflies j 

Then tired goes back unto his cradle-keep. 

3 

O silence of the womb ! 
O silence of the tomb ! 
O happy day that is 
Between two silences ! 



THE SILENT DORMITORY. 

LITTLE HARKY MORROW— IN MEMORIAM. 

" Grave-digger, hast thou a bed 
Vacant in thy dormitory, 
Where this tired silken-head 
May sleep on till morning-glory?" 

" Yes ; though loveless are my willows 
In their wintry nakedness. 
Yet beneath are downiest pillows 
Many a prince hath sighed to press." 

" Grave-digger, oh, tell me, please, 
Do thy lodgers rest at ease ? 
And will they at morning-break 
With the rose and robin wake ? " 

" Folded hands and folded feet ! — 
Sleepers' sleep was ne'er so sweet; 
Naught disturbs their perfect rest 
Till the night goes down the west j 



12 THE SILENT DORMITORY. 

" Till the grass-meads of tlie sky, 
Thick with dandelions spread, 
Withered 'neath the light-scythe lie, 
By the morning harvested : 

" Then, as from the eastern skies 
Fall the rose and robin's voice, 
All my sleepers ope their eyes 
And with bird and flower rejoice." 

" Good grave-digger, grieveth me 
Such unlovely sights to see ; 
For my darling's little bed 
Canst provide no prettier spread ? 

" 111 beseems a quilt like this — 
Faded, gray, threadbare, and torn — - 
For a form so fau' as his. 
For a babe so gently born/' 

" Faded now, 'twas very fair 
When the Summer filled the air ; 
Visited by bird and bee, 
Beautiful it was to see ; 

" Till, when Winter smote the sun, 
All its beauty was undone. 
But full soon the child of Tan, 
Ah-See Spring, the laundryman. 



THE SILENT DORM I TOR T. ] 3 

" Comes, with loveliest coverlets — 
Greening grass and violets, 
Birds a-bloom and flowers a- wing — ■ 
Wonderful is Ah-See Spring ! 

" In his hand a close-shut fan 
Bears he — quiet laundryman ! 
When the good bell-ringer, June, 
Kings his bird-and-flower-sweet tune, 

" Ah-See Spring, the laundryman. 
Opens wide his wondrous fan. 
From whose secret folds upspring 
Leaf and flower and golden wing, 

" Wafts of sweetness which the ear 
Hath elysium if it hear ; 
Forms of beauty which the eyne 
Feeding on are made divine. 

" Friend, if thou wilt come this way 
"When thy baby's quilt of gray 
Is transformed to such as this, 
Thou wilt wish a bed by his." 

" Good grave-digger, say'st thou, too, 
He will wake at morning-dew ? " 
"Yes." "Then all of us will come; 
Side by side, 'twill seem like home. 



11 THE SILENT DORMITORY, 

" Now, though baby's bed-time quite, 
Papa has an hour or two 
Of the Master's work to do ; 
So, sweet lips, good-night ! good-night! 

" Ere yon orient stars have prest, 
Faint, the mist-lands of the west, 
I'll return and go to bed 
With my pillow next thy head ; 

" And upon the other side 
Mamma just as near will bide ; 
And close by two flaxen-heads — 
Sisters in their trundle-beds. 

" Oh, how sweet, when in the skies 
Million- winged Morn >hall rise, 
And with reassuring voice 
Bid us waken and rejoice ! 

" Then from out their trundle-beds 
Will upstart the flaxen-heads, 
And a little chirp will break — 
' Papa ! Mamma ! I's awake ! ' 

"Death ! what sting hast thou for me ? 
Hear I not my baby call ? 
Grave ! where is thy victory ? 
Answer, as thine eagles fall." 



THE SILENT DORMITORY. 15 

EPILOGUE. 

* 

Breaking hearts, whose dead are here — 
They but sleep, and morn is near ; 
Go in peace, O eyes that weep ! 
Soon beside them ye shall sleep ! 

When the Master's work is done 
Ye'll be gathered, one by one. 
Here to slumber until morn — 
Waiting, breathless, to be born. 

Then the dear Christ from the skies — 
Ne'er went forth a voice so sweet ! — 
Will salute 3^ou as ye rise — 
Ne'er were heard such hurrying feet ! 

Grave ! who would not sleep with thee, 
If this be thy victory ? 
Who would not, O Death ! be thine, 
Waking to such life divine ? 



16 OUT OF THE 8ILENGE, 



OUT OF THE SILENCE; OE, THE NIGHT- 
BLOOMING CACTUS. 

"Mother,"* darling, we who seem 
Near thee only in thy dream. 
Whose earth-forms so long- ago 
Thou didst pillow 'neath the snow, 
Bless thee in thy house of clay, 
Bless thee on this happy day. 

Happy, happy day of meeting ! 

All thy dear ones give thee greeting. 

Some — their voices thou dost hear ; 

Some are silent, though as near. 

Sweet with love the flowers they bring thee ; 

Sweet with flowers the love they sing thee. 

* So called In the family by husband and children alike. 

Note.— We have at home a night-blooming cactus plant, which 
blossomed for the first time on October 6, 1880. That was our 
mother's eighty-fourth birthday. We had lool^ed forward with a 
great deal of curiosity and interest to the opening of the magnifi- 
cent flower, and that the event should happen on this most inter- 
esting of all our anniversaries, we thought a curious and impress- 
ive coincidence. It next blossomed early in 1881, and we remarlced 
laughingly, " The cactus has forgotten mother's birthday." During 
the summer another bud set, but we thought nothing of it beyond 
a general interest in the development of so elegant a flower. 



OUT OF THE SILENCE. 17 

Whence came they— tliese flo^Yers so fair ? 

Were tliey made for thy caress ? 
Nay, they blossomed for whoe'er 

First should claim their loveliness. 

our motner's next birtnday-the eignty-flfth-we celebrated by 
a general gatUering of near relatives; and as tlie day approaclied, 
regret was felt that tlie cactus bud would probably not be ready to 
lend its beauty to tlie occasion. But it developed with unexpected 
rapidity When the day came, mother was ill, and did not leave 
her room to receive the f eli citations of friends till dinner was called. 
The table was decorated with floral gifts, and the cactus plant, 
which had been placed in a corner of the room in hope that It might 
open showed its flnc bud to all. We had been sealed at table but a 
few minutes lohen the bud began to open, and be/ore we rose it was a 
perfect flower ! Gifts of flowers from the living, and (could it be ?) 
from the dead also I 

In these our family reunions there are many vacant chairs, and 
the prevailing feeling always is a pensive sadness in memory of the 
departed • and under cover of that feeling a so-called " spiritualist" 
mi"-ht easily have interpreted the opening of the cactus-bud as the 
affectionate salutation of the unseen but present spirits of our dead. 
\s it was, the coincidence, following that of the previous year, was 
so startling as to strike those present with a feeling akin to awe, 
though none were "spiritualists." 

There remains to add a sequel which Is quite as remarkable as 
the foregoing. Our elder brother, then the head of the family, who 
was present at the above described celebration, died in January, 
1883 That year the cactus bloomed twice— once early in the sum- 
mer on t?ie anniversary of our raot7ier's wedding-day, and again on 
the 29th and 30th of August, Uie latter being the birthday of the 
deceased brother ! 

If these startling coincidences were not purely accidental— and 
on the theory of chances there is small likelihood that they were 
mere accidents-by what subtle alchemy of forces, spiritual or 
earthy, were they brought about? 

The following verses were composed to celebrate the occasion 
flrst above-described, the writer giving a poetic, or sentimental, 
rather than a religious or doctrinal interpretation to the remarlc- 
able coincidences of the narrative. 



18 OUT OF THE SILENCE. 

They by winds of chance were blown 
To thy bkth-feast — all save one ! 

Lo, this cactus-bloom is ours, 

Kadiant in supernal measure ; 
Our gift to thy feast of flowers, 

Love's sweet homage, love's sweet j)leasure. 
Month by month, and day by day. 
We have brought it on its way. 

"When the gardener drops the seed 

In the silence of the earth. 
Little doth he know or heed 

Of the mystery of birth. 
While he, trustful, waits and sings, 
Lo, the living blade upsprings. 



But the spirit-mind is taught 
How the leafage and the bloom 

Out of matter dead are wrought, 
As the soul springs from the tomb ; 

And with knowledge comes the power 

To control the blossominef hour. 



So, our presence here to prove 
On thy birthday's hallowed eve, 

With the texture of our love 

This white blossom we did weave 



OUT OF THE SILENCE. 19 

Bade it ope before thine eyes, 
Bade it bloom for thy surprise. 

Think not, darling-, only they. 

Who from earth's imjoure estate 

Are not yet emanci|)ate, 
Bide about thee night and day ; 
We who died so long ago 
Lie not there 'neath rain and snow. 

Where thou art, there we abide, 

Striving alway how to bless, 

How to rest thy weariness ; 
Happy to be at thy side ; 
Sad when thou 'rt oppressed with sadness ; 
Glad when thou 'rt uplift with gladness. 

Bless thee, bless thee, living saint. 
Faithful wife, devoted mother. 
Who hath toiled as scarce another, 

Yet toiled on without complaint. 

" Good and faithful," saith the Lord ; 

Great will be thy just reward. 

Soon must fall thy house of clay. 

But another will be thine. 

Made of substance more divine, 
One that time vv^ill not decay. 



20 OUT OF THE SILENCE. 

Death is li-iglier life begun ; 
Bless tliee, blesS thee, darling one. 

Death — 'tis sweet to those like thee 
That have borne the hero's part, 
Kept a consecrated heart, 

And from stains of earth are free. 

" Mother," all with thee is well ; 

Thou already in heaven dost dwell. 

But for purpose wise thy feet 
Still in earthly places move. 
Bearing messages of Love 

Unto all whom thou dost meet — 

Love, the mighty ; Love, the strong ; 

Love, whom thou hast served so long. 

Bless thee, bless thee, " Mother " kind ! 

Bless thee, bless thee, saint so pure ! 
Bless thee, sweet and heavenly mind, 

In thy heavenly home secure ! 
Bless thee ! angels sing thy praise ; 
Bless thee, bless thee all thy days ! 



DEATHLESS. 21 



DEATHLESS. 

TO MY COUSIN DAISY— IN MEMORIAM. 
1 

Marble-cold ! no pulse ! no breath ! 
All is stillness; all is death. 
Yesterday, our dove-sweet child; 
Now, the clay through which she smiled. 
Her true self a spirit was, 
Shining here as through a glass. 
Grave-side lily ! thou 'rt not she ; 
Death has taught us this to see. 

2 
Lo ! this matchless piece of earth — 
Nest, where a white dove had birth ; 
Casket, for a jewel wrought, 
Finer than the finest thought — 
Here assigned to insatiate death, 
Which all forms devoureth, 
Though 'tis covered from our ken, 
In our 'hearts is born again. 

3 

And, O marvel infinite ! 

Though when living in our sight 



22 DEATHLESS. 

There were stains upon the clay 
Which we could not wash away, 
Now in griefs o'erwhelming hour 
'Tis by love's transforming x)ower 
In our hearts anew create, 
Deathless and immaculate. 

4 . 
Thou dost shut the eyes, O death ! 
Out the lamp goes in thy breath ! 
Dost affection's smile suppress 
When the lips meet thy caress ; 
But by love brought forth in pain 
Lids and lips shall ope again ; 
And what thus in the heart doth rise 
Love will there immortalize. 

5 

Death, the casket 's in thy clutch, 
But canst not the jewel touch. 
Nay, e'en that, by love renewed — 
Mystical similitude ! — 
Love doth snatch it from thy grasp, 
Love doth press it in her clasp. 
Never more, O death ! to be 
Laid in bondage unto thee. 

6 

Death, the cruel ! Death, the strong ! 
Thou hast bruised mankind too long ; 



TnEO. 23 



All too long \Yith icy sleeji, 
Thou hast made the world to weep. 
Love hath might transcending thine 
Thou art mortal, she 's divine ; 
Thou slay'st all in earth, air, sea— 
All save love, but love slays thee. 



THEO; OB, FEOM OUT THE LIGHT. 

THEODORE CUYLER LEWIS-IN MEMORIAM. 
1 

Sweet is darkness, sweet is night ; 
Sweet the fading of the light : 
Then the father home returns ; 
Then the lamp of evening burns. 

Sweet to eyelids wont to weep. 
Sweet and soft the shutting sleep : 
Then the mind from pain set free 
Hath in dreamland liberty. 

Sweet is stillness, sweet is death ; 
Sweet the ceasing of the breath : 
Then the chrysalis is shed. 
Then the soul's shut wings are spread. 



24 TIIEO. 

2 

" Darling hearts, O, do not weep ; 

Dying is not wliat it seems : 
'Tis not silence, 'tis not sleep ; 

Deatli alone the soul redeems. 

" Only thus could I be free, 
Free of passion, free of pain, 

Ne'er, O, ne'er to bow the knee 
To the earthy gods again. 

" Only thus could I be free. 
Free on wonder-wings to rove, 

Where to breathe is ecstasy, 
Where the atmosphere is love. 

" Nor has death torn us apart ; 

Though my form ye see no more, 
I am to each loving heart 

Nearer now than e'er before. 

" Where'er in this realm of light, 
I may journey, I may roam, 

There before my inner sight 

Stands revealed the dear old home. 

" When ye gather, loving-wise. 
Round the table, face to face. 

Could ye look with heaven-pure eyes 
Ye would see no vacant place." 



DESOLATE. 25 

3 

Sweet is morning, sweet is light ; 
Sweet the fading of the night : 
Then, by sleep refreshed and strong, 
Goes the toiler forth with song. 

Sweet to hearts by grief undone, 
Sweet, O, sweet the rising sun ; 
Touched by wafts of golden air, 
riy the demons of despair. 

Sweet beyond expression's breath, 
Sweet the day-spring after death ! 
O, the glory ! O, the bliss ! 
Earth is naught, is naught to this. 



DESOLATE. 

DEDICATED TO THEODORE FRELINGHUYSEN LEWIS, ESQ., 
NOV. 30, 1879. 

1 

Haste, sun, up from thy sea ! 

Bring morning to these eyes ; 
They gave their light to thee, 

Now night within them lies. 



DE80LA TE. 

Fly, birds, out from your south ! 

Bring song to these dumb lips ; 
Sweetness they taught your mouth, 

Now music in them sleeps. 

Quick, summer, from thy bowers ! 

Bring roses for his cheeks ; 
Beauty he gave thy flowers, 

Now death within him speaks. 

2 
Go, sun, down to thy sea ; 

Canst ne'er re-'lume these eyes ; 
The light they gave to thee 

Will nevermore arise. 

Stay, birds, in your sweet south ; 

These lips are cold with snow ; 
The song they taught your mouth 

They teach to seraphs now. 

Best, summer, in thy bowers ; 

Death's lilies in him weep ; 
Thy bees, thy birds, thy flowers 

Forever with him sleep. 



NO MORE! 27 



NO MOEE ! 

O darling boy, the loss was ours, not tliine , 
Serene tliy sleep within thy coffined bed. 
As when thy mamma held thee in her arms 
And felt thy bosom beat against her own. 
Deep in the ground we laid thee — no, not thee, 
But the sweet form we called our darling boy. 

Then saw we thee no more : — no more at morn, 
When issuing from her house of sleep, the Dawn 
Tapped with her delicate fingers on the pane 
And wakened thee ; no moi;e at noon, when Sleep 
O'ertook thee at thy play, and made of her arms 
A bed for thee upon the grass ; no more 
At night, when thy good nurse prepared thee for 
Thy crib — the farewell kiss impartially 
Bestowed — and laid thee in for sweet repose. 

Then heard we thee no more : — no more thy feet 
Pattering the sweetest music in our ears ; 
No more thy lips pronouncing our dear names 
In broken accents far more sweet to us 
Than perfect words ; no more thy ringing laugh 
Filling the house with radiant merriment. 

Then felt we never more thy twining arms 
About our necks, thy face upturned to catch 



28 iVO MORE! 

The rain of kisses that was sure to fall ; 

No more thy i)alpitating bosom pressed 

So fondly to our own ; no more thy cheek 

With peach-bloom painted o'er ; no more thy mouth 

A rose-bud red ; no more thy dimpled hand 

Fat as a cherub's ; no more thy perfect form 

As soft and warm as flushing life could make. 

Then gathered we no more with hungry lips 
The honey which the bees of love did hide 
Beneath thy chin — mamma's upon one side ; 
The other, papa's ; each by sacred right 
Possessed, never to be invaded. 

Then 
Bathed we our hands no more in those sunbeams 
That flashed all day and all the night as well 
About thy head — sunbeams which were thy hair. 

Then spake we less and less thy gentle name, 
Till silence grew the fashion of our hearts. 
The clock ticked louder than it ticked before ; 
Or else its summons grew more earnest when 
In silent meditation we surveyed 
The i3ath our baby's feet had trod alone, 
The path our feet must, some day, tread alone — 
No! no! not alone! O, not»alone»! 



THE LITTLE SHOES. ' 29 



THE LITTLE SHOES. 

We lost not all wlien we thy beauteous form 
Gave. up, incomparable boy ; we still 
Had sweetest recollections left whicli death 
Could not efface — visions of happy hours 
In memory's treasure-house embalmed forever. 
The little shoes ! so like the feet they clothed ! 
Wrinkled, and bulging where the fat toes j^ressed— 
Here in this corner of his bureau drawer 
Set them ; he will not use them any more. 
The little shoes ! so like the little feet ! 
They seem to wait in still expectancy 
Their master's coming, and methinks would say : 
" Come, Sweet, our Master, we do wait for thee. 
Why sleepest thou so late ? The sun is high ; 
We saw his golden wings sweep through the air 
Some hours ago. We tire of our long rest. 
Come, let us play again at castanets 
Upon the floor : mamma and papa say 
'Tis sweeter music than the Opera." 
O little shoes ! O precious little shoes ! 
Here is his little sacque — his pocket sacque ; 
And here — but tears despoil our eyes of sight. 
So shut the drawer ; we '11 come again by an' by. 



30 FADIJVO AWAY, 



FADING AWAY. 

IN MEMORIAM MEAE UXORIS. ' 

Thine was the splendid realm of earth and air 

And sky — sharer of spring's delightsome reign.'" 

Methought in such a treasure-house of sweets, 

Of mystic herbs and magic potencies, 

Some influence might be found to disenchant 

The sorcery of fell disease. 'Twas vain ! 

No earthly power availed to break the spell. 

Thy cheek more hollow grew from day to day, 

More red the awful rose, and more ghost-like 

The pallor round it. Oh, had love i30ssessed 

The sovereign power to pluck from the bright sun 

Or air or earth the universal balm, 

How would the poor, thin river of thy pulse. 

That through thy frame its vivifying stream 

Poured languidly, have bounded on its way 

In full, strong, brimming flood, beneath her touch ! 

The shrunken flesh put on a fair round form 

Afresh from beauty's mould, and strength returned ! 

How would the delicate flush of health have flowed 

Over thy lily skin at her command, 

As o'er the sky the mantling flush cf dawn, 

Supplanting, with the lovely rose of life, 



SILENT, 81 

The hectic rose, native at the tomb's edge, 
That in thy cheek, at every day's decline, 
Bloomed out as vying with the sunset sky, 
To fade so soon into a lily pale, 
A lily of death's valley ! But alas, 
Love turned her head away and wept to see 
The darling of her eyes fading, fading 
Away, and knew that she was powerless 
To stay the fell destroyer's deadly charm. 



SILENT. 

LITTLE FRANKIE— IN MEMORIAM. 

My darling child, death had no part with thee 
Save as the warden of a house more fair, 

To let thee in to sweetest company. 
I could not wish in nether realms of air 
To keep thee down, though hard it be to spare 

Thy lovely presence in my lonely years — 
So full of joy thou wert, I full of care. 

But ah, the bliss, when death shall dry my tears, 
To know we shall be one in the unending spheres. 



32 UNBOUND, 



UNBOUND. 

LEVI ARNOLD LOCKWOOD, JANUARY 23, 1883. 

Insatiate Death, put by thy dart ; 
It cannot reach this lily heart. 
Smite off his chains, O specter grim ; 
'Tis all thou hast to do with him. 



AN EPITAPH. 

IN MEMORY OP THE LATE HONORABLE MARCUS L. WARD, 
FORMERLY GOVERNOR OF NEW JERSEY. 

If every soul athirst to whom he gave 
A cup of water in the Master's name 

Should lay one violet upon his grave, 
A new Hymettus would the bees proclaim. 



II. 

THE GOOD, THE TRUE, AND 
THE BEAUTIFUL. 



GOODNESS, TRUTH, BEAUTY. 

Love thou Tlie Good and be divinely taught ; 

Love thou The True and be divinely free ; 
Love thou The Beautiful with all thy thought ; 
men will worship The Divine in thee. 



THE PRINGELIE8T, 85 



THE PEINCELIEST. 

1 

Great physician, Poesy, 

Heal my wounds and set me free. 

To my sorrows give surcease ; 

Hear me as the mother hears ; 
In my bosom pour thy peace, 

In thy bosom hide my tears. 
PrinceHest-born, O Poesy, 
Let me lose myself in thee. 

2 
I am not the princeliest ; 
I can give thee little rest. 
In my bosom though thou hide. 

Though my balm assuage thy pain, 
In thy bosom though I bide, 

All thy tears will come again ; 
One alone can bid them cease — 
Lo ! in thy heart, the Prince of Peace. 



36; MORNING. 



MOENING. 

Now from his star-built eyrie in tliC east 

The old gray eagle of the dawn arose, 

Sx^read his great wings and sailed away to the west. 

Then out of the orient yellow linnets came — 

A few at first — flittering about their nests, 

Preening their feathers, twittering soft and low ; 

Then more and more, till soon the sky around 

Was golden with their million million wings, 

And flooded was the earth with melody. 

At last uprose the oriole of day. 

His breast aflame, his wings dripping with light, 

And up the empyi'ean proudly soared ; 

While instant into every nook and cranny 

Of the horizon the glad linnets poured. 

Bearing to earth and sky — to every plant. 

Each leaf and bud and bloom, to everything 

That lives the innocent life of nature, and 

Unto the soul of man this loving-sweet, 

This new evangel from the Infinite : — 

" Behold ! 'tis morning ! " 



THY CONSTAI^GT. 37 



THY CONSTANCY. 

Mother, this life a fairer hue assumes 
From the resplendent light thy years do cast 
Upon it. With heroic constancy, 
Through every varying fortune hast thou wrought, 
Doing the daily work thy hand did find, 
And with thy might, as if that day for thee 
Had no successor. Thou hast been to me 
And all that bode within the hallowed realm 
Of thy enfolding love, a sun rising 
Upon a troubled sea. How oft have thy 
Commanding words bidden the waves be still — 
The storm go back into its sullen cave ! 
How oft hast called into our troubled hearts 
The angel, Peace ! Stricken thyself with grief, 
Hast borne in thy strong arms our palsied forms 
Back from the grave-mound where, fixed to the spot 
That had no earthly hope, we stayed too long. 
Hugging a phantom, when life's duties stood 
Within our homes, beings of loveliness, 
Ready to give us, living, love for love. 
How strong thy faith in the Almighty arm ! 
How strong thy trust that all for thee is well 
When thou performest thy part, leaving to Him 



38 BELOVED OF NATURE. 

Who made and doth uphold the universe — 
Planets and suns and the minutest thing — 
The issues of thy toil, content whether 
Fruition comes to-morrow or to-day, 
Knowing 'twill come in the completed hour. 



BELOVED OF NATURE. 

"With apple-blossoms crowned, her breath perfume, 

Spring leads thee forth and tells thee all her joy. 

She makes thee sharer in her splendid realm. 

Thine is the blooming orchard's glory ; thine 

The leafage new of woods ; the happiness 

Of birds, just mated, flying in and out 

And round and round, with chirrup of content 

And soft, low cluck, exploring every nook 

To find the safest, daintiest hiding-place 

To build their nest in love's sweet privacy ; 

Thine is the harmless rabbit's frightened leap ; 

The frisky squirrel's race along the rail. 

And short, full stop for observation, with 

No wink of eye, or smallest stir of hair — 

Alert philosopher ! To thee the brook 

Doth pipe its soothing song, whose every note 

Is melody ; for thee each stately tree ; 



BELOVED OF NATURE. :39 

The ancient silent rocks, and the wild flowers 
That kiss their feet ; for thee the rye so tall, 
The wheat, the corn, and all the growing fields; 
For thee the grazrlng cows, the innocent sheep, 
The horses scampering o'er the fields, so glad 
To taste once more the succulent, green grass ; 
For thee the generous landscape broadening out, 
A thousand acres — woodland, mead, and mount ; 
For thee the myriad-voiced, orchestral wind, 
The ever-changing and fantastic clouds. 
The all-enfolding canopy of blue ; 
For thee the dawn, the sunrise, and the day ; 
For thee sunset, the gathering dusk, the night. 
The stars, the moon in all her masks ; for thee 
All powers of Nature so beneficent 
"Which Spring, the princely-born, the princely- 
taught. 
Can tell thee of, conning the wondrous lore 
Of her great mind, and pouring into thine 
"With smiling condescension and pure love 
Her mighty mysteries. 



40 MOTHER AND BABE, 



MOTHER AND BABE. 

O happy born, whate'er tliy race or sky, 
Whether thy lot be 'mid the humble or 
The proud, whose life in sinless love was sown \ 
In whose gestation no defiling thoughts 
Roiled the clear waters of thine embryo ; 
"Whose eyes, when first they oped, rested upon 
A heavenly-minded mother's raptured face ; 
Who found at birth a-ready for thy lips 
A brimming beaker filled at love's well-spring 
Ere lust had stained its crystal purity — 
A font more pure than Castaly. Sweet babe. 
Cradled in mother's arms, her love-full eyes 
Down-gazing into thine, thine answering eyes 
Up-looking into hers, thy rosy cheek 
Pressing her lily breast, drawing thy life 
From hers — sweet sacrifice ! her trembling heart- 
As 'twere a timid bird — a-faint with love. 
Disinterested love, devoted love. 
By day and night around thee fluttering. 
Well may ye, spirits strayed from Paradise, 
Hovering above this lily of the earth. 
In rapture gaze upon the wondrous flower. 
So lovely and so exquisitely sweet 



AFFLICTION. 41' 

It is, methinks you'd say 'twas plucked in heaven — 
Maternal love and baby innocence, 
Folded in one as by an angel's wing-s. 



AFFLICTION. 



Wlien the Frost-king blows his breath, 
Then comes silence, then comes death. 
Though the summer be not sj)ed, 
Yet behold the flowers fall dead ; 
Though unripe the farmer's grain. 
Pierced with frost-spears it is slain. 
Naught avails the farmer's care. 
Naught avails his hope, his prayer. 
Eich in promise, yesterday 
All his fields in beauty lay. 
Acres fair of golden grain. 
Swept with billows like the main, 
Stuffed with treasure every head 
That the hungry might be fed. 
Tall the tasseled corn and green ; 
Sweet its rustle, fair its sheen ; 
When the sun and wind combine. 
Thought the farmer, what so fine ? 
Grain to grain — O, hear their chime : 



42 AFFLICTION. 

" Soon comes happy harvest-time ! " ^ 
But the Frost-king yesternight 
With his miUion spearmen bright 
Passed — and lo, Thermopylae ! 
Not a Greek escaped the fray. 
Every grain its death-shroud wears, 
Pierced by hundred Persian spears. 

2 

See the mother — her bosom bare ; 
See the babe that nestles there. 
Beams her face with heavenly joy ; 
He is hers, her darling boy. 
***** 
Look again! On snow-white bed 
Lo, the laughing babe lies dead. 
Who can read that awful page ? 
Who that mother's grief assuage ? 

3 

See the child by mother's knee, 
Prattling loves of infancy. 

***** 

Look again ! The child is weeping 
By the grave where mother 's sleepingo 

4 

See the husband \ see the wife ; 
See the children sweet and kind ; 



AFFLICTION. 43 

Naught to break their joy of life, 
Perfect in their peace of mind. 
» * * * * 

Look again ! The husband 's gone; 
Vacant is his evening chair. 
O, the anguish, the despair, 
As the mother, one by one. 
Draws her flock within her arms. 
And doth cry with love's alarms, 
*' Who will now my darlings bless? 
"Who protect my fatherless ? " 

5 

See the pilot at his post ; 
Comes a whelming surge — ^he's lost ! 
"What can now the vessel save, 
Merged by the relentless wave ! 

6 

See the statesman, calm and great, 
Guiding true the ship of state; 
'Mid the tempest that appalls, 
'Mid the shock of states he falls. 
" We are lost ! " the nation cries j 
" Lost ! " the huiTicane replies. 

7 
Farmer, do not smite thy breast ; 
Mother, be not so distressed ; 



44 THE 8PIDER-80UL. 

Child, look up from th' hallowed dust ; 

Wife, put in the Lord thy trust ; 

Seaman, God 's above ; be brave ; 

Nation, He doth smite to save. 

Though each seemed a cruel fate, 

Needed Avas the lesson great. 

Lo, if ye will rightly turn 

Your black-draped funereal-urn. 

Ye may this evangel read: 

"Who trusts the Lord is blest indeed." 



THE SPIDEK-SOUL. 

The little shape thou seest and callest Me 
Is but the inner circle of a web 
Whose guys are tied to stars, the spider-soul 
Sitting in the centre, ready to dart forth 
At the least stir, e'en to the outmost bounds. 
Where our habitual thoughts abide, there is 
Our home, there do we pass our conscious lives, 
Not in the corner where that wonderful 
Automaton we wrongly call Ourselves 
May hap to stand — that earthy mechanism 
Where a strangely incongruous company, 
r faith 't would seem, of roaring devils and 
Of angels ministrant had entered in 



ox, HORSE, AND I. 45 

And ta'en possession. Else, from wliat proceed 
The constant jerking of the puppet strings 
Until they break, the jangling of the bells, 
Wearing the servants out in vain attempt 
To answer every pandemonian call, 
Inmixed with oft repairs of broken strings, 
With gentle calls and messages of love 
And sympathetic words and balm to soothe 
The faithful, o'ertasked servants' weary hmbs ? 

Not in this angel- devil-haunted shape 
Does our real self abide, but where our thought 
Abides, in eaiih or sky, in hell or heaven : 
There is our home, there is our conscious life. 
The mystic spider-soul, out of its own 
Surpassing strange anatomy doth spin 
The subtile thread and weave its o^vn web- world, 
Its hell or heaven. 



OX, HOESE, AND I. 

The beauty and the glory of the world 
Are in the heart alone of him that loves. 
The ox knows not the splendor of the dawn : 
He sees the growing light ; he is athirst, 
And thinks of the refreshing brook ; hungry, 
And thinks of succulent grass. What thinkest thou, 



46 OX, HORSE, AND I. 

My brother % What beside the end of sleep 

And rebeginning of thy daily tasks 

Hath the great morn for thee ? If naught beside, 

Consider in how much thou dost surpass 

The patient ox that helps thee plough thy fields — 

The grazing ox that dies, and leaves no sign. 

The tinkle of yon brook my horse doth hear 
As well as I ; athirst and travel- worn, 
He thinks of the cool ford and neighs his joy. 
I think of home and of a darling there 
Whose heart and mine in harmony are one, 
Of peace and concord and the gentlest words, 
Of love and all its admonitions kind. 
Of love that.knows no selfish wish or thought. 
Of children precious as my very life, 
Of little grave-mounds where the grass is green. 
Of tears and laughter, happiness and pain ; 
And through my thoughts, thus wandering far 

away, 
Flows in and out the brook's melodious voice. 
As 'mid an orchestral gush of harmony, 
Rises and falls some sweet, familiar air. 



PLANTING THE IVY. 47 



PLANTING THE IVY. 

DEDICATED TO THE CLASS OF '77, OF LOCKWOOD'S 
ACADEMY.* 

1 

Now round Alma Mater's shrine 
Weave the spell and plant the vine ; 
Plant the ivy in the ground, 
While our farewell words go round. 

2 

Alma Mater, unto thee 
We devote this ivy-tree. 
May it round thy portal grow 
While the seasons come and go ; 
Grow and grow unto the eaves, 
Spreading wide a shield of leaves. 

3 

Ivy-vine, ivy-vine, 
Virtue, learning, love entwine. 
Bind them as in harvest sheaves ; 
Intertwine them with thy leaves. 

• On Wednesday afternoon, June 6tli, tlie graduating class per- 
formed the interesting ceremony of planting tlie ivy in front of the 
school building. 



48 TBANSFORMATION. 

Intertwine and intertwine, 
Ivy-vine, ivy- vine. 

4 

Now we weave the mystic spell 
Kound tlie home we love so well. 
Plant the ivy in the ground. 
While our farewell words go round. 
Sprinkle earth upon the root ; 
Press it down with hand and foot. 

5 

There, 'tis done. Ivy-vine, 
Grow round Alma Mater's shrine ; 
Intertwine and intertwine. 
Alma Mater, fare thee well ! 
Rest fore'er beneath our spell ; 
Fa-re thee well ! fare thee well ! 



TRANSFORMATION. 

To-morrow morn ! How sweet to me the thought ! 
'Twill come as sweet ; my thought is prophecy. 
My heart, a bird, will sing unto the dawn ; 
The dawn, a bird, will sing unto my heart. 
O hapi^y, happy day, so ushered in ! 



THAJNSFOMMATIOJ^. 49 

Who would not wish that such a morn were his t 
But wishing will not bring such morn to thee. 
"Weep all the night over thy mis-spent day. 
And wish for hapj^y morn, and weep and wish 
Until the sun rise ; just the same 'twill come 
In gloom for thee, though for thy brother it 
Shall come in gladness ; for his heart is glad. 
And thine is heavy. All things take their form 
And color from the mind that seeth them. 

To him whose heart with sorrow 's overborne 
The earth doth wear a mask funereal — 
The brook along its pebbles seems to sob ; 
The flowers are heavy-eyed with grief; the grass 
Takes on a soberer hue than is its wont ; 
The gayest music hath a sad refrain ; 
The sun is sad, the moon and stai's are sad, 
Though not a film of mist their sjolendor veil. 

To him whose heart with joy doth overflow 
All things a mask of pleasantness assume — 
Mankind, the earth, the heavens were ne'er so fair ; 
The birds, the br€eze, the brooks sing sweetest 

song. 
As though the sky were bridegroom to the earth. 
AVe see what we have eyes to see, hear what 
We 've ears to hear, feel what we 've heart to feel. 
It naught avails to me how look the heavens 
And earth to thee, my brother j they 're to me 
Just what I make them by my power of soul, 



PLOD ALONG, 



That grantTy that terrible transforming- power 
Turning the fairest day to- blackest night. 
And night of tempest into peaceful day. 



PLOD ALONa 

Brother, friend, whoe'er thou art, 
Seems thy struggle hard and long % 

Lose not courage, lose not heart ; 
These with struggle make us strong. 

Thou shalt conquer by and by 

If thou keep tliy heai't and try. 
Plod along. 

Plod alongy my sister, brother ; 

Thus the great have won their fame. 
Tis the way — there is no other — 

To build up a noble name. 
Seek not thou some easier path^ 
Though Fortuna easier hath. 
Plod along. 

Great souls like to Socrates 
That have glorified their time 

Have climbed up by slow degrees 
And painfully the heights subliiae. 



PLOD ALONG. ^X 

Thou, too, brother, if thou will, 
Canst mount up God's holy hill. 
Plod along. 

See that dauntless soul, St. Paul ! 

Welcoming scourges, welcoming death. 
If such be his Master's call ; 

Preaching Christ with his last breath. 
Who would not endure the shame. 
For so glorious a name % 
Plod along. 

Seek not thou an easier way 

Where the trivial-minded throng ; 

Idle pleasure-seekers they, 
Caring not to plod along. 

" Little cost is little worth," 

Is good law in heaven and earth. 
Plod along. 

Flinch not thou from toil or pain ; 

Bravely bear and nobly strive ; 
Sun-bright days will come again 

When 'twill be a joy to live. 
Easy is the downward road ; 
Hard, but sweet the Mount of God. 
Plod along. 

Easy is the downward road ; 
Ah, the host that travel there ! 



62 PLOD ALONG. 

Sliort the way, the gate how broad ! 
But as through the gate they fare, 
See, oh, see their trembling fears ! 
All their laughter turned to tears ! 
Plod along. 

Who are these that plod along 

By the strait way? Ah, how few I 

See their rapture, hear their song, 
As the gate they hasten through ! 

Grand it is to strive and win ; 

Grand to break the bonds of sin. 
Plod along. 

Fear not circumstance, nor man, 
Bather fear thy yielding will ; 

If thou do the best thou can, 
God will help thee up his hill. 

Then sublime will be thy fate, 

Glorious thy last estate. 
Plod along. 

Brother, friend, whoe'er thou art, 
Seems thy lot too hard to bear? 

Lose not courage, lose not heart, 
Thou hast but thyself to fear. 

God, who rules below, above. 

Gave thy lot to thee in love. 
Plod along. 



A LOVER FINE. 63 



A LOVER FINE. 

"Wouldst thou have a lover fine ? 

Make The Truth thy valentine. 

Ever young and ever fah^, 

He 's a very Prince of Air. 

If thou give him thy true-love, 

He will fond and steadfast prove. 

Though thy room be scant and poor, 

When he oi)eneth the. door 

And doth claim thee for his bride, 

All to thee is glorified. 

When to thee he cons his lore, 

Thou art blest as ne'er before. 

Wouldst thou then have lover fine- ? 
Seek The Truth for valentine. 
If he love thee, heaven is naught 
In thy consecrated thought 
But the place where he doth bide. 
With thee ever at his side. 



54 THE HUNTED DEER. 



THE HUNTED DEER 

Behold tlie deer ! See how it flies its foe ! 
The antlered monarch of the wilderness, 
The hunter's baying hounds upon his track, 
Sweeps like a meteor through the pathless woods. 
Up the wild cliffs and down their further side, 
With terror trembling, swims the glassy lake, 
Then flies again, nor stops while yet the cries 
Of horn and hound assail his ear, until 
At last o'erta'en, gasping for breath, his strength 
Consumed, he sinks in helpless agony. 
With scarcely sense of pain to feel the fangs 
Of his mad captors tear his heated flanks. 
And dies amid his glorious hills, their king. 
Their rightful king, by outlaws seized and bound. 
Tortured and slain. And there are living men — 
Not "gentle," howsoe'er they name themselves, 
Who call this torture sport ! Oh, shame to him 
Who finds a pleasure in another's pain, 
Who can without a sympathetic pang 
A poor, dumb creature terrify, pursue, 
And slay, watching with all an ogre's glee 
Its agonies of death ! 



PATIENCE SUPERIOR TO DEFEAT, 55 



PATIElSrCE SUPEKIOR TO DEFEAT. 

Oil, gran^ it is fco struggle and grow strong, 

To meefc adversity witk valiant lieart. 

To buttress and rebuild the broken wall 

As oft as *' Eater's " resistless catapult 

May shatter it ; and so to ^^ersevere, 

"With deathless fortitude, like Frederick 

Of Prussia^ or our greater "Washington, 

That f oes^ though rising up on every hand. 

By the fatigues of victory worn out, 

Shall cease at last their frenzied, fruitless blows, 

And uttermost defeat be swallowed up 

In finals overwhelming victory- 

Valor, though conqaering all beside^ doth find 

His conqueror in Patience, 



THE SACREDNESS OE LIFE, 

CiTisli not the harmless worm beneath thy feet. 
Nor idly bruise the least of sentient things : 
Its life is sweet to it as thine to thee. 



B6 RELIGION UNDEFILED. 



RELIGION UNDEFILED. 

Lift up the fallen, clothe the naked limbs, 
Instruct the ignorant, wash the unclean, 
Porgive the erring, help them to amend. 
But above all, stand up before the world 
Thyself a chaste, a true, a noble soul. 
Then will the race be better for thy life, 
And men rejoice to keep thy name alive 
And honored long after thou 'st gone to bed, 
To sleep beneath thy coverlet of grass. 



CHEIST WITHIN. 

He 's dead in whom, though health abide, 
Doth lie entombed The Crucified. 
He only hath the immortal's birth 
In whom the risen Christ walks forth. 



III. 

TESTEEDAT, TO-DAT, AND 
TO-MOEEOW. 



LE EOI EST MOET! VIVE LE BOI! 

The sand is out ; 'tis midniglit ; turn tlie glass. 
The king To-day is dead ! Long live the king ! 
Tlie ready heir To-morrow is encrowned, 
And now stands king To-day. Long live the king ! 
While he that was the king 's already dust, 
And on his tomb is sculptured, " Yesterday." 



TEE STREAM OF TIME. 59 



THE STREAM OF TIMK 

Give me thy hand, Arelia, lest thou fall ; 

The cliff is dizzy j one would best not stand 

Too near the edge. Behold yon catai^aci 

Prom out the very sky it seems to leap 

And with one bound reaches our feet in spray. 

Then gathering itself in force again — 

A pretty pool where all that thirst may drink — 

It makes another leap, breaks into mist 

Which the wind sways like locks of hair, and then 

Is lost in clouds that lie far, fai* below. 

Lean forward Just a lii tie o'er the cliff— 

I'll hold thee fast — and thoumayst see the wonder. 

That stream is tin:e: — a little, troubled pool 
Spread at our feet, gathered from spray that falls 
From ouo the sky like yonder cataract, 
Passing away as suddenly in mist 
As here this leaping torrent. 



THE MYSTERY. 

To-morrow ! To-day ! Yesterday ! A brood 
Hidden within the shell ; a singing bird ; 



60 TO-DAT. 

An abandoned nest. A bridal train ; at home 
"VVitli love ; a funeral. Dreams ; laughter ; tears. 
A prism. A triple strand coiled round and round, 
And round and round, without either an end 
Or a beginning which our search can find. 
A line down-dipping from the Infinite, 
^Folding the soul, then stretching back again 
Into the Infinite — and that is time. 
Impenetrable mystery ! emblem 
Of Him who no beginning hath, nor end ; 
In whom, ne'er born, are all things that have birth, 
In whom, ne'er dying, all things that have death. 

Not e'en the soul this mystery can read — 
The soul, itself a mystery as great. 



TO-DAY. 

To-day ! the meeting-place, and naught beside^ 
Of two infinities, the one made more 
The other less by every throb of time. 
Yet both alike forever infinite ; 
"The passing moment" that is ever here. 
Forever passing, and yet never past ; 
Duration's atomic — nay, not so much — 
The least, immeasurable fleck of time, 



WffA T PRE PARA TION ? 61 

Of actual life ; yet taken each with each 

In their succession, comprehending all 

That ever, since the world was made, hath been, 

That ever, while the world endures, will be. 

Thus doth the past infinity become 

As naught, the future, naught, while the thin line 

Between them broadens till it 's all in all. 

The one and only infinite of time. 



WHAT PREPAEATION '? 

To-morrow cometh ; it will soon be here : 

"What preparation art thou making for 't, 

Dear, my Arelia? If thou give it room 

Within thy heart, 'twill bless thee with its beams. 

Beneath its invitation, buds of joy 

Will open in thy pathway if it find 

Them ready for its sweet appeal ; and love's 

Unrivalled fruits 'twill ripen for thy lips 

If but thine hand hath fitly nourished them. 

Think of the morrow, gentle heart, while yet 

The beauty of to-day is round thy head — ■ 

To-day with all its precious gifts of love 

Bestowed on thee expressly to enjoy — 

To sweeten duty's sometimes irksome tasks- 



62 AS THOU HAST SOWN, 

Neglect not these requirements ; no, not one. 

From them arise to-morrow's lovely blooms ; 

And thence issue the only earthly fruits 

That can the immortal spirit satisfy. 

Soon, soon the night will fall ; then sleep ; and then 

The morrow. Say, Arelia, shall it bring 

Thee pain? or bliss ? Thou must decide. 



AS THOU HAST SOWN. 

To-morrow ! It is just at hand : against 
Its coming what provision hast thou made? 
Thinkest thy bramble-bush will yield thee grapes"! 
If thou hast sown the wind to-day, hopest 
To avert the whirlwind by thy prayer? Vain thought! 
He who hath made the morrow hath ordained 
That like shall bear its like ; therefore prepare 
To gather in as thou this day hast sown ; 
Happy, O heart, if thou hast faithful wrought ; 
Thy sleep, thy dreams, thy waking, oh, how sweet I 



APOLLO? OR HARPY? 63 



APOLLO? OR HARPY? 

O brotlier-man, thou canst not change to-day. 

It is j^recisely what thou madest it 

When it lay folded in the womb of time, 

Unborn, the child of yesterday. It now 

Is j)ast thy reach. But lo, to-morrow ! That 

Is plastic clay within thy moulding hand. 

'Twill be exactly what thou makest it, 

Baser or grander as thou dost elect, 

Apollo Belvedere or harpy foul ; 

Exactly what thy hand is working out 

This moment while thou read'st these solemn words. 

To-morrow is the offspring of to-day. 

Resolve that it shall have a princely birth, 

However poor thy yesterdays have been. 

However humble thy to-day may be. 



THE PEERLESS FLOWER. 

O brother-man, rejoice ! To-day is thine. 
Behold it cometh glorious in the east ! 



64 THE PEERLESS FLOWER. 

The rising tide of morning, creeping up, 

O'ersweeps night's sandy beach, The Milky Way, 

And now to th' utmost verge, each star submerged, 

Is spread the brimming flood of day. The daAvn ! 

This dawn ! This very dawn which Nature boon 

Now gives to thee — was e'er more splendid gift ? 

Was ever nourished on the tree of life 

Bud more magnificent ? If thou wert prince 

Of all the earth, and this thy bridal day, 

And Nature, mindful of the great event. 

Had from the birth of time nurtured a plant 

To bear one perfect, solitary flower 

To deck thy bride, methinks it must have been 

So like this lily-rose of dawn that men 

Had named it morning. Dawn ! This wondrous 

dawn ! 
This budded glory that doth ope for thee. 
Fresh from the garden of the Infinite; 
For thee, for thee, O soul disconsolate. 
By sin disfigured and by grief o'erwhelmed — 
Thy yesterdays are dead, all dead ; stay not 
Among their graves. To-day awaits thee with 
Its pomp, its glory all arrayed for thee. 
As if thou wert The Prince, earth's only heir. 
Lift up thine eyes from painful sepulchres 
Unto this living miracle of morn. 
Create for thee. Lo, The King plucks the rose ; 
He lays it on thy breast. Canst thou refuse 



THE PEERLESS FLO WER. 65 

Tliy love ? tliy loyalty ? He asks no more. 

Canst tliou refrain from penitential tears ? 

For this one day walk toward tlie liglit. Be deaf 

To every siren's call. For this one day 

Obey the still, small voice within thy breast 

That speaks as passion never sx^ake. So, when 

The tide of day goes out, and gives again 

Unto thy feet the sandy beach of night, 

The Milky Way, with myriad stars — islets 

And archipelagoes scattered along 

The ocean of immensity, thou mayst 

Lift UX3 thine eyes unto the Infinite — 

Thine eyes washen with tears of penitence. 

Now filled with heaven's own azure beams of light, 

The light of joy, such as he only knows 

Who 'neath the silent stars heareth a voice 

From out their everlasting depths — a voice 

Inaudible to all save him, saying ; 

" My son, thou hast been faithful to the task, 

The little task required of thee to-day ; 

Lie down in peaceful sleep ; sweeter shall be 

Each morrow for thy loyalty this day. 

And nearer unto Me thy feet shall climb." 



FORSAKEN, 



FOESAKEN. 

[OFENINQ SCENE LAID IN FULTON STREBT, NEW YORK, NEAR THE 
BROOKLYN FERRY. TIME, DUSK OP A WINTER'S DAY, WHEN CROWDS OP 
PEOPLE ARE HURRYING HOMEWARD.] 

" 'Twas here a-near this gate, 
'Twas here he bade me wait 
Till he, returning straight, 

Quickly should come ; 
Then we would go, he said, 
As I so oft have j^led, 
And be together wed ; 

And then, sweet home ! 

" "What an unceasing throng 
Of people pours along ! 
As if some purpose strong 

Made all agree. 
They 're going home ; and there 
The welcoming kiss, the chair, 
And the warm evening fare ; 

Alas for me ! 

" Darling, make haste and come, 
And let us, too, go home, 



FORSAKEN. 67 

Never again to roam 

As we have done ; 
But let us night and day 
The law of God obey, 
And thus as best we may 

Our sin atone. 

" I left my father's house 
To be thy chosen spouse 
In blessed marriage vows 

And sacraments ; 
But in that fatal hour, 
'Neath passion's awful power, 
We crushed the snow-white flower 

Of innocence. 

" We drank the maddening wine ; 
We laughed and thought it fine j 
Not on thy head but mine 

Be all the blame. 
Then wanderers were we ; 
No father's house for me, 
But hither we did flee 

To hide our shame. 

" Thou said'st we here might find 
Some Man of Heavenly Mind, 
Some Savior sweet and kind 
As once did live, 



68 FORSAKEN. 

Who would, if we confessed 
In tears upon liis breast, 
Give to our poor hearts rest. 
Our sins forgive. 

" We 've searched with weary pace 
This milHon-throated place 
And sought in every face 

That Holy One. 
In vain ! alas ! in vain ! 
There 's little left, 'tis j)lain, 
But the great world's disdain; 
We are alone, 
* * * * 

*' "Wliy cometh he not back? 
With night the heavens grow black, 
And fear begins to rack 

My heart and brain. 
Oh, hark ! I hear his feet ! 
Joy ! joy ! again to meet ! 
Those lips to me so sweet 
To kiss again. 

" No ! 'tis a stranger. Why 
Will he leave me here to die ? 
Let me not vainly cry, 

Sweet one, to thee. 
Darling, forsake me not ; 
Come, take me from this spot a 



FORSAKEN. W 

From this distressful lot 
Deliver me ! 

*' My Asphodel ! my saint ! 
Thy Miriam 's a-faint ! 
Oh, turn not from my plaint 3 

Am I not thine % 
"With mutual vow and prayer. 
Each other's lot to share 
For life did we not swear % 

Art thou not mine % 

" How desolate is this mart ! 
Terror is in my heart ; 
At every sound I start, 

So still it is ! 
'Tis silent as the grave. 
O Christ ! wilt thou not save ? 
A sinner crushed doth crave 

Thy feet to kiss. 

*' Perhaps he 's hurt or dead ! 
Why should I be afraid! 
Oh, why have I delayed 

So long ! so long ! 
In search of him I '11 go ; 
Some one, perchance, will know 5 
This way he went ; oh, now 

My heart is strong. 



70 FORSAKEN. 

" Yonder 's an officer ; 
I '11 si^eak to him : ' Good sir ! 
Forgive me if I err — 

I 'm much concerned ; 
I've lost a friend to-night ; 
Two hours ago 'tis quite 
He left me — then 'twas light ; 
He 's not returned. 

" * By yonder iron gate 
He bade me quiet wait 
Till he, returning straight, 

At once would come ; 
Then we would go, he said, 
As I had often pled, 
And be together wed ; 
Then have a home. 

" * A velvet coat so neat, 
Dapper his hands and feet. 
His face all smiling-sweet ; 

And then he wore 
So many seals and rings. 
Such chains and flashing things. 
He seemed some orient king's 
Ambassador. 

" ' Oh, tell me if you can 
Where is this gentleman ; 



FOMSAKBjy. 71 

It was this way lie ran ; 

I am afraid, 
He was on haste so bent. 
Some dreadful accident 
Bef el him as he went, 

And that he's dead!'" 

The officer replied : 
" He '11 ne'er make you his bride. 
Nor ever to your side 

Come back again. 
Take my advice, poor maid — 
Believe not what he said ; 
Go home ; you are betrayed ; 
Your quest is vain." 

" O cruel words ! No ! no ! 
He would not treat me so ! 
I do implore you, go 

Seek him with me. 
I 'm sure somewhere he lies 
"Wounded ; perhaps he dies ; 
Methinks I hear his cries 

Of agony ! " 

" He 's neither hurt nor dead ; 
Your paramour has fled ; 
He ne'er with you will wed. 
I 'm pained, poor child, 



72 FORSAKEN. 

To see you so distressed ; 
Take my advice — 'tis best ; 
Go home ; jon need good rest. 
Your search is wild." 

She gave a piercing cry 2 
" I'll find him or I'll die ! " 
And, ere he could reply, 
riew down the street. 
*' She 's gone like a raven's wing ! " 
He turned and sighed, " Poor thing ! " 
Then giving his mace a swing, 
Passed on his beat. 

^ ^ 7^ ^ 

Wall Street at dead of night 
Is a grave-yard, spectral white, 
"With glimmering, ghostly light 

Over the graves ; 
And at its foot the tide 
Like Acheron doth glide, 
Whispering of suicide 

From its dark waves. 

From Trinity's lone tower 
Tolls forth the midnight hour, 
When witchcraft hath its power 

Over the tomb. 
Black as death is the air. 
To some poor soul's despaii* 



FORSAKEN. 73 

The wind howls out : Prepare 
To meet thy doom / 

Hist ! a noise of shuffling feet I 

Along the river street 

A form, 'mid driving sleet, 

Glides stealthily, 
Down the long wharf she goes; 
I wonder if she knows 
An awful whisper flows 

From out that sea ! 

A lamp at th' end o' the pier 
Sheds a dim light, and here, 
The wave-moans in her ear, 

The figure kneels. 
With face uplift, and prest 
Her crossed hands on her breast, 
As one ere going to rest 

To heaven appeals. 

'Tis Mii-iam ! €an it be 
This wretched one is she 
"Who dreamed this night to see 

Herself a bride ! 
What agony doth tear 
That face so wondrous fan- ! 
The martyr's pangs are theie; 

She 's crucified. 



74 FORSAKEN. 

Her hat is gone j unbound, 
Her liair doth sweep the ground. 
Blown by the winds around — 

For poor love's sake. 
Her shoes are gone ; her feet. 
White in the slush and sleet, 
As in their winding-sheet, 

Feel no more ache. 

Her arms and breasts are bare^ 
As if some wild Despair 
Had rent her naked there — 

O cruel hate ! 
Drabbled with mire and torn — 
And she so gently born — 
Could aught be more forlorn 

In human fate I 

Oh, gaze upon her face \ 
"Was e'er such heavenly grace 
By one of earthly race 

Inherited ? 
Such matchless form ne'er shone 
From out the chiselled stone — 
Beauty to marble grown 

When life is fled. 

Gaze in her staring eyes ! 
You look upon the skies 



FORSAKEK. 75 

Of sun-loved Italies. 

In tliem are wells 
Of what unfathomed bliss 
With husband's, children's kiss ! — . 
What joy, what blessedness 

Of marriage-bells ! 
* * * * 

She moves not ! Is she dead ? 
Her life forever fled "? 
Already gone to wed 

In Paradise? 
Your fingers firmly pressed 
Upon her marble breast — 
The heart-beat is at rest ; 

Her flesh is ice. 

Upon her face and form, 
With life and love once warm, 
Pelts down the pitiless storm ; 

'Tis naught to her. 
Her tattered dress and hair 
The winds toss wild in air, 
And howl like fiends sent there 

Of Lucifer. 

Against the pier the wave 
With furious beat doth rave, 
And the high-tossed spray doth lave 
Her frozen form. 



76 FORSAKEN. 

Oh, the wild night and black! 
Oh, the wild tempest's wrack ! 
The sailor comes not back 
From out such storm ! 

Hark ! a rumble reaches the ear. 
Again! more deep, more clear. 
Again ! it cometh near. 

'Tis Thunder's word ! 
See ! a glimmer is in the air. 
Again ! a brighter glare. 
Again ! here I everywhere ! 

'Tis Lightning's sword! 



See ! she doth move ! she weeps I 
See ! with a wild skriek she leaps 
Into the boiling deeps! 

And none to save ! 
A blinding lightning-flash ! — 
A quick thunder-crash ! — 
Her white face shines in the dash 

Of the briny wave. 

Alone with the awful roar 

Of Tempest lashing the shore I 

Alone with Night and the war 

Of the dread Cyclone ! 
The gull from her wild track 



FORSAKEN. 

Croaks, " Gone ! " " Gone ! " tli' wind 

shrieks back. 
Out goes tlie lamp ! The Wack 
Waves moan, "She 's gone ! " 



L ENYOI. 

O mystical white Dove 
Whose mortal name is Love, 
That hath in cote above 

Immortal birth. 
Through this my feeble song 
Of cruel, cruel wrong, 
Descend on pinions strong 

To our sad earth. 

In some poor heart that 's ta'en 
Thy blessed name in vain. 
For healing of her pain 

Fold thy sweet wing ; 
Of prayer's transfiguring hour, 
Of hope's celestial dower. 
Of love's all-healing power, 

Teach her to sing. 

But he that doth betray 
A lily heart away 
From virtue's path to stray — - 
From Eden driven, 



78 BABY'S HALO. 

Let him a wanderer be 
From liome and j)eace and thee 
Till she shall set him free 
At last in heaven. 



BABY'S HALO. 

Baby, thou scarce art thing of mortal birth. 
So excellent are all thy yesterdays 
That lo to-day around thy head doth shine, 
An aureole, proclaiming thee of birth 
Divine. 'Tis there, O father, mother, imve 
Of heart. 'Tis there around your baby's head. 
Open your sj^irit-eyes : behold, it glows 
For you an aureole of glory ; nor 
Shall it depart, perchance, for many a day. 
O blessed babe, 'twill play around thy brow 
Through all thine innocent years, fading av,^ay 
As innocence departs and guilt succeeds. 

Haj)py the mother who around the head 
Of the sweet babe that nestles at her breast 
This glorious apparition doth behold. 
Thrice happy, if her heart with the All-Fair 
Have such accord that those innocent lips 
Find at her breast naught but ambrosia. 



BLACK EYES AITD BLUE. ^ 79 

Then iiaply may the halo long endure 

"With undiminished radiance. Nay, perchance, 

Through all the after-days, however long, 

Some shadow dim, some faint adumbrant hint 

Of the departed glory may remain, 

Like guardian angel hovering round the 'head 

Of this thy child so heavenly born and reared. 



BLA-OK EYES AND BLUE, 

The baby's eyes are black ; dost wish them blue ? 

But they are black ; of what avail 's thy wish ? 

They had been blue if thy progenitors 

And thou had understood wise nature's law 

And had fuLfllled it. In your ignorance 

You 've made them black. Nature do'th naught 

by chance, 
Do'th naught mysteriously, though we be blind. 
Deep are her ways, but they repay our search 
With knowledges that teach us how to lean 
Our ladders 'gainst the stars. 



80 BUItYINO TTT8 YESTERDAYS, 



BURYING HIS YESTERDAYS. 

One foolish man I knew wlio silent liis time 
Burying his Yesterdays, and on their tomb 
Inscribing mournful epitaphs. To me 
They read like lies, though he meant them for truth. 
From this dolorous work no time he spared 
To crown To-day, a daughter just as sweet, 
"With living blooms ; no time to plant with flowers 
The path To-morrow's feet were soon to tread. 
And so from dead to dead he passed, nor found 
Any enjoyment in the living. 



TILL IT RUNNETH O'ER. 

"Walk not abroad with crabbed countenance 

As if wert out of sorts with everything. 

The sun smiles on thee graciously ; canst not 

Return its smile ? The moon and stars are thine 

To wear them in thy heart and on thy brow, 

If thou accept them, just as years ago 

When thou didst gaze upon them with delight. 



TILL IT RUNNETH O'ER. 81 

Ere thou hadst felt "Fortune's" cold shoulder. Now, 
When thou 'st so little else to boast of save 
The treasures of thy better thoughts, is 't wise 
To turn thy back with clmrlish disregard 
On the sweet face of nature, thy best friend ? 
" Fortune " does not deal fairly Avith thee % Tut ! 
She 's not at fault ; she favors none ; is just 
To all alike — nay, generous to all. 
She fills each measure till it runneth o'er. 
If thou dost offer thine awry so that 
It holds but little, do not censure her 
Because thy share is mean ; 'tis all thou art 
Prepared to take, though more she offers thee. 

She cometh every morning to thy door 
Ere thou 'rt awake, calls thee, waits patiently 
Upon thy sleepy steps, and to the brim 
Fills up the measure thou dost offer her. 
If 'tis a thimble, and held wide aslant 
In thy half -wakened hand, do not expect 
Such bountiful supply as thy neighbor 
Receives, who 's ready for her when she calls, 
And holdeth up to her a gallon-crock, 
And holds it straight. If when thou'rt wide awake, 
Thou findest thy supply is very scant. 
Be thankful that she cometh soon again. 
One day quick passeth with its cheerless clouds ; 
I hope thou 'It then be wiselier prepared. 
The measures oft change hands; perhaps wilt find 



82 WAS E'ER SUCH ERIENB? 

After awhile tlie gallon-crock in thine, 

The thimble in thy neighbor's hand. How just, 

How generous is " Fortune " after all ! 

If thou choose ill to-day, she pinches thee ; 
"What for? Because she 's pleased to give thee 

pain? 
Nay, she 's intent on this one thing — to cure 
Thy folly. If a whisper were enough, 
She 'd whisper; if a pinch, she 'd only pinch ; 
If 't needs a blow, she can administer that. 
Though it should well-nigh kill. Her purpose is 
To cure, not kill ; to heal, not give thee j^ain ; 
To make thee wise, that with to-morrow's sun 
She '11 find thee ready to receive ihe gifts 
She cometh ready to bestow on thee. 



WAS E'ER SUCH FRIEND? 

Nature — was e'er such sweet, forgiving friend ? 
Who, though thou smite her in thy angry mood, 
Turns not in anger from thy smiting hand ; 
Wlio gave thee yesterday as now she gives 
To-day — as fair, as fresh, as sweet a bud ; 
Gave unto thee, my brother, with her love ; 
To thee who hadst so oft before repulsed 
That love, and trodden 'neath thy brutish feet 



MAYST HOBBLE INTO HEAVEN, 83 

Her precious gifts ; and now again didst scorn 
Her i^leading, yearning, her entreating love; 
Her sweet, sweet gift again didst tread in the mire; 
And yet for all these base, insulting wrongs, 
For all thy cruel coldness and neglect. 
Such is the abounding richness of her love, 
That, hoping still to touch thy stony heart 
And win from thy hard lips one flickering smile. 
She brings thee now again her love, as sweet, 
As smiling-sweet and true as though thou ne'er 
Hadst slighted her. 



MAYST HOBBLE INTO HEAVEN. 

Pray not to have thy yesterdays again ; 

They never will return. How wouldst thou toil, 

Seeing the sad harvest thou to-day dost reap 

Because thou sowedst yesterday so ill. 

How w^ouldst thou toil to put in precious seed 

If thou couldst have thy yesterdays again ! 

The break of day would find thee at the plough ; 

The noon would watch thee scattering wide the 

seed ; 
The set of sun would see thy task achieved ; 
The stars would look upon thee in thy bed, 
Sleeping the peaceful sleep of honest toil. 



84 MA TST HOBBLE INTO HE A YEN. 

Thy heart with dreams of affluent harvests glad. 

But this can never be. Thy yesterdays 

Are vanished — irrecoverably gone : 

Not one of them thou e'er shalt see again. 

As thou hast sown already, such must reap — 

That much is certain — be it good or ill. 

Call thou not Providence unkind for that 
She bendeth not her laws to suit thy way. 
She made thee free, and gave thee, yester-morn; 
Thy choice — a freeman's choice. Two lovely Forms 
She sent, the one that pleased thee best to be 
Thy councillor, companion, comforter. 
Thou heard st them both, then took fair Pleasure's 

hand, 
Thy brother. Duty's. On ye fared, apart. 
Leaving thy brother in the furrow, thou 
Soughtest the house of revelry, and there, 
Indulging every carnal appetite, 
Forgot the morrow that was sure to come. 
Or heeded not its warning. Now with head 
Bowed down for shame, and anguish in thy heart, 
Famished, bleeding, thy garments torn or gone. 
Thou comest to thy brother who doth stand 
Yfiih manhood on his brow, and in his house 
Comfort and sweet content, and true, pure love. 
He pities thee — for loyalty to God 
Makes kind the heart — thy hunger satisfies. 
Covers thy nakedness, but cannot loose 



THE HAND FROM OUT THE MIST. 85 

The cruel fetters thy own hands have forged. 
These thou must wear, although not hopelessly, 
For Love is His best name who thus designed ; 
He giveth thee thy choice again to-day ; 
If choosest well, He will thy galled flesh heal; 
And though thou must drag on the heavy chain. 
To meet thy need He '11 give thee added strength; 
And by and by e'en thou, on crutch and cane. 
Begrimed and sore, mayst hobble into heaven. 



THE HAND FROM OUT THE MIST. 

Turn ! turn ! O broken-hearted brother-man. 
Is the path rugged ? Yes, it needs must be. 
The heights seem inaccessible. But look ! 
From out the mist that hides the top, a Hand 
Down-reaches toward thee; clutch it ! hold it fast ! 
'Twill guide thy blindness, help thy stumbling feet. 
Then keep thy courage up ; hold fast thy grip ; 
Strain every nerve ; each step 's a small advance. 
It may be long ere thou canst see much gain. 
But some there will be. Every new to-day 
A greater and a greater gain will show. 
Till by and by thou mayst look wondering down 
From thy far height into the dreadful pit 



86 A NECESSARY MEDICINE. 

From wliicli thou hast so narrowly escaped^ 
And joyfully look up into the light, 
The gathering light which plays about the heights 
Above thy head, as of a coming dawn, 
And see the mists in massive, broken clouds 
Rolling away, revealing verdurous spots, • 

And bits of sky, and here and there the j)ath 
In gentler curves and easier ascent. 

Turn, then, O evil-haunted brother-man, 
And give not o'er thy sjoirit to despair. 
'Tis ne'er too late to flee from error's way ; 
Sufficient for thy needs thy strength will be ; 
For He that made thee wrought in love, and knows 
The needs of every lacerated heart. 

Turn, then, O wretched, wretched brother-man. 
To-morrow cometh surely as to-day 
Hath come, and it will find thee somewhere. What 
Wilt thou it bring thee ? Conscience' bitter lash % 
Or Love's caressing smile ? Thyself must choose. 



A NECESSARY MEDICINE. 

Would that, O lust-imbruted brother-man, 
I might assist thee bear thy grievous load. 
Cover the hideous brand upon thy brow 



A NECESSARY MEDICINE. 87 

With the white veil of gentle charity, 
Draw* out the dreadful iron from thy breast, 
Assuage thy bitter cup, thy limbs supjDort 
Tottering beneath thy self-inflicted load : 
But this the wise Physician doth forbid. 
Thy pain is merciful, restorative. 
No sharper than the need is, medicine 
Dealt out in love by the all-loving Friend, 
To work contrition in thy heart, and strength 
Of will to choose the better part to-day ; 
The only medicine that doth suffice 
To break the dreadful sorcery of sin 
And heal its wounds. 

Therefore thy morrow's pain 
With all the courage thou canst summon, bear. 
But first of all resolve, though thou hast oft 
Kesolved before, only to break thy pledge. 
Resolve, upon thy bended knees resolve. 
And though thou hast but little manhood left, 
That little pledge unto thy sacred self. 
Calling the conscious Presence in thy breast 
To witness thy appeal, thy solemn pledge. 
Thy scalding tears, thy brokenness of heart. 
Resolve that thou wilt turn thy steps once more, 
And strive with all thy might the other way 
To walk, clutching with grateful heart the hand 
Which He, the all-sufficing, offers thee. 



88 ALL THAT 'S LEFT THEE. 



ALL THAT 'S LEFT THEE. 

Sayest tliou liast not strength to take one step ? 
Sayest, so deej-* the pit, thou canst not reach 
The hand outstretched to save thee ? Eaise thine 

eyes ; 
'Tis there within thy grasp ! Seems the way up 
So arduous thy enervated will 
Shrinks back in blank despair ? O wretched man, 
'Tis all that 's left thee ; if thou wouldst escape, 
Thou hast no other way. The hoiu' is thine 
Once more to choose. Sayest thou art not free 
To choose? Alas ! I know 'tis very hard ; 
Thy manly power of will lies paralyzed — 
Dread penalty of sin ; but choose thou must. 
The hour is thine ; perchance it is the last ! 
Bring all the courage, all the strength of mind 
That yet remain to aid th}^ feeble will, 
And looking unto heaven with gratitude 
That thou, e'en thou, so utterly imclean, 
Mayst yet be cleansed, seize the all-gracious Hand. 
And for thy life never let go thy hold. 

It is thy only hope : thou canst not walk 
Alone : the way is all too difficult ; 
But if thou boldest fast, thou shalt ascend, 



DELILAH. 89 

Through sweat and tears and many and many a 

groan, 
Slowly and arduously thou shalt ascend. 
Each morrow will grow brighter, each new jiath 
Less arduous, the prospect more and more 
Inviting, till at length the earth will e'en 
Begin to smile, flowers creep up to kiss 
Thy feet, the distant babble of sweet brooks 
Fall on thy hungry ears, announcing rest. 
Rest and refreshment to thy weary frame, 
A respite to thy toils, with cheer and joy. 



DELILAH. 

Ah, the poppies are in blossom 

On the fau' Delilah's bosom. 

And her arms are spread to fold thee 

Where the rose-leaves fall ; 
But the scalding tears come after, 
"With the Circe's scornful laughter. 
Oh, the pang ! — as conscience told thee- 

AVheu the night-winds call. 



IV. 
THE FIRESIDE. 



TKUE-LOVE. 

Thou in whose peaceful breast 
This brooding Dove hath nest, 
Account thyself most blest 

Of all the earth. 
Fortune may fly away ; 
False friends may cease to stay; 
Far more, far more than they 

Is true-love worth. 



TO MY MOTHER, S3 



TO MY MOTHER 



O wonder-worker, liow shall I miss thee 

When death at last shall bid thy hands be still ! 
Those aching hands that have unceasingly 
Enwrought for love, through good report and 

ill. 
Of tho&e that called thee " Mother ; " thy great 
will 
Defying weariness, so thou couldst make 

Each fleeting day, each fleeting hour fulfill 
Thy soul's sweet purpose for thy darlings' sake, 
That they might softlier sleep and all untroubled 
wake. 



At fourscore years and ten what might is thine ! 

The might of the unconquerable will. 
While in thine eyes the light of love doth shine, 

A fire of soul doth flash within them still. 

Though thou dost walk as one who goes up hill, 
With laboring steps and slow, yet thy clear mind 

In argument displays its wonted skill ; 
Ready thy converse on fresh themes, combined 
With charming reminiscence of thine elder kind. 



94 TO MY SISTER. 



If reason, flying dove-like o'er the waste 

That doth o'erflood our heavenly paradise, 
Had found no place her weary wing to rest, 
It were enough to look in thy sweet eyes, 
O Mother, saint, and feel supremely wise. 
Thou canst not die : e'en now thine eagle heart 
Soars seraph-clad beneath earth's evening 
skies. 
Which are the morn of heaven. Death's fierce 
dart 
Can reach no soul that bides where thou already cirt. 



TO MY SISTEK. 

Beloved companion of my youth, whose life, 
Has been unbrokenly a trail of light, 
A gospel of good cheer to weary hearts — 
Alas so many ! hearts that needed thee — 
A gospel of sweet joy to those a-near 
That leaned on thee as on a trusty staff, 
I greet thee with my love. May heaven bestow 
Its richest largess on thee ere thou 'rt called 
Unto the greater bliss of the unseen. 
May thy pure life, so beautiful, be blest 



TO MY SISTER. 95 

With loving friendships all thy soul doth crave. 
May the great sun, the kindly rain, evening 
And morning which thou lov'st so well, on thee 
Pour forth their gladness and their peaceful love. 
And mayst thou find in me always a friend 
Steadfast and strong and true in every need, 
A brother grateful for the loving care 
Thou 'st lavished on him all these gracious years. 
May flowers, in recognition of the love. 
The passionate love thou bearest them, carpet 
Thy feet forever, and lie close upon 
Thy bosom, purity to purity. 

As petlings know their mistress' kindly call. 
And run to kiss her hands and cuddle in 
Her arms, so the sweet flowers know thee, and haste 
To meet thy loving thought and greet thy care 
With theu* superb delights. How high, how pure, 
How sweet the commune thou dost hold with them ! 
What miracles of loveliness thy love 
In them discerns unseen by common eyes ! 
(O love ! this is the marvel of thy power — 
E'en to create a loveliness thine own, 
To call it forth where there was none before.) 
With what a quiet and exalted joy 
Do they requite thee, pouring round thy heart 
Rivers of blessedness of which the world 
Knows not ; turning to loveliness so like 
Their own thine earthlv attributes, till thou 



9C SPEED THY MAY. 

Slialt altogether lose thine earthy form, 
Transformed into a flower most beautiful, — 
As the larve into the butterfly is changed — 
And be to heaven translated. "What to this 
Are the low pleasures which the world doth prize- 
Pleasures which perish, leaving naught behind 
Save emptiness and tears and shadows dim, 
And sad remembrance of a wasted life, 
And rags and beggary of soul, crouching 
Before The Golden Gates, where only souls 
Enriched and pui'ified can enter in ! 



SPEED THY MAY. 

TO MY BROTHER LEVI, IN SICKNESS. 

Speed, O New-Year, speed sweet May; 

Haste thy sleeping earth to wake ; 
Speed thy bitter months away 

For my darling shepherd's sake, 
Who doth droop on bed of pain 
Till thy leafage come again. 

Bid thy winds more softly blow ; 

Speed thy flower and fluttering wing ; 
Here a sufferer lieth low ; 

Longing for thy sweet-voiced spring. 



SPEED THY MAT. 97 

Cold New- Year, oh, speed tliy May ; 
'Sj)eed thine ice and snow away. 

Sjpeed thy May, the blossom-crowned j 
Witfh her breath, arbutus-sweet, 

She '11 transform this frozen ground 
Into daisies for his feet. 

Speed thy Eed-and Yellow- Wing ; 

He doth languish till they sing. 

Bleak New-Year, oh, speed sweet May ; 

Bring him softness, bring him balm ; 
Sj)eed thy cruel months away ; 

This he waits for, meek and calm. 
Waits, but oh, how wearily 
He doth count the hours go by ! 

Dost thou wonder, good New-Year, 

Who is this for whom I jDray ? 
'Tis a gentle shepherd dear 

That doth love thy lovely May. 
Ne'er a shepherd lived, so sweet; 
Hark ! his lambs do bleat ! bleat ! bleat ! 

Askest why his lambs do bleat ? 

Ah, the poor things miss him sore ; 
For they know and love his feet, 

And they hear his step no more. 
Speed thy May to heal his pain ; 
Give liim to his lambs again. 



98' MT EARTHLY PARADISE. 

Lo, they 're looking toward the gate 
"Where his form they 're wont to see ; 

Hark ! they bleat ! bleat ! while they wait. 
Bleat ! bleat ! ah, how mournfully ! 

Speed, O New- Year, speed thy May ; 

Speed thy howling winds away. 

Speed, O New-Year, speed sweet May; 

Haste thy sleeping earth to wake ; 
Speed thine icy months away 

For my darling shepherd's sake. 
He doth long his lambs to see ; 
Give him back to them and me. 



MY EAKTHLY PARADISE. 

Nestled within the valley of my heart 
There is a garden so divinely sw^eet 
My spirit faints to breathe its name — 'tis home. 
Therein doth flow and sing perennial 
The brook of love, upon whose banks I live 
And with my darlings have perpetual feast. 
Oh, deepest bliss our human life affords! 
Husband and wife, home, cliildren, family, 
Father and mother, love, forgiving love. 
Disinterested, self-denying love. 



LAN DIN G OF THE PRIN CESS L UISE. 99 

Enfolding, feeding, all-sufficing love : 

"What words so sweet doth human speech contain % 

None but All-Love can such a gift confer ; 

No one but man can such a gift receive. 

O heart of mine, cherish this garden fair; 
Nor let the serpent of impure desire, 
Or thought ungenerous or feebly kind, 
Enter to spoil the fairest, sweetest spot 
That e'er by Hand Divine was made to bloom 
Beneath the bending heavens. 



ON THE LANDING OF THE PEINCESS 
LOUISE IN CANADA, 

NOVEMBER 23, 1878. 
1 

Who is it comes in this princely state, 

With salvos of guns, 

With flutter of flags. 

With clanging, of bells, 

AVith the roll of drums and the blare of trumpets, 

With huzzas that grow louder and nearer? 

Everywhere there is hurry and bustle ; 

Everywhere there is gladness and greeting. 

Ships in the offing. 



100 LANDING OF THE PRINCESS LOUISE. 

Sliips in the harbor, 

All gayly decked for rejoicing. 

To and fro they glide with the shouting of seamen, 

While answering shouts go up from the shore. 

Who is it comes in this princely state ? 

2 

The people are out in their best, 
Gathered in groups, 
Gathered in crowds, 
Waiting as if for a pageant ; 
And masses of soldiers stand 
Bedizened with arms and with red coats. 
Everywhere there is hurry and bustle ; 
Everywhere there is gladness and shouting. 

3 

Who is it comes with this chorus of greeting, 
This outpoured joy and fulness of feeling ? 
A princess, Louise ; her mother a queen ; 
Herself a lily of w^omen ; 
Radiant with youth like the morning ; 
With sweetness crowned as the summer. 

Who is this princess, this lily of women? 
No other crown she needeth 
Than her own loveliness — 
This princess, Louise, this lily of women. 

Who is this princess, this lily of women"? 
Listen, and I '11 tell thee a tale ; 



LAjYDIJTG of the princess LOUISE, 101 

Tell tliee whence she hath come and why; 
Tell thee why her people rejoice to behold her. 

4 

In England, over the sea, reign eth a queen, 

Victoria, foremost of women that live. 

Long ago, in her youth, 

In the rose-bud years of her maidenhood. 

Out of her garden-home, 

The home of her birth and her childhood. 

She stepped to the English throne ; 

To the throne ablaze with the light of the world. 

How would she fare in that dazzling and difficult 

seat ? 
She an only child of nineteen summers, 
She who had never known a father's caress, 
A father's strong, guiding hand. 
How would she fare lifted so suddenly up 
To that pinnacle of worldly estate. 
The central throne of the planet ? 

Every eye was turned upon her expectant ; 
Every heart fluttered with fear for the child so 

exalted, 
"With fear lest her innocent nature 
Should lead her to trust some unworthy. 
Some good-for-naught scion of royalty, 
Richer in titles than manliness. 



102 LANDING OF THE PRINCESS LOUISE. 



England was weary with waiting, 

Waiting and watching to see a home once more, 

Clean and sweet and true, in the castle of "Windsor ; 

A home that Britons might point to with pride, 

A home that would serve as their pattern. 

Ah, they had wept when their princess, Charlotte 

Augusta, 
Had died in the Belgian palace, 
Had died, ah me ! in the throes of maternity, 
Had died in the bloom of her womanhood. 
And blotted out hope from their bosoms. 
Now they rejoiced with fulness of joy 
That, on the throne of Elizabeth, 
Victoria, the youthful, was seated — 
Victoria, the lily of queens. 
And queen of all lilies in England. 
Against her no finger of scandal had ever been 

pointed. 
Sweet and pure as a perfume her girlhood had been ; 
Sweet and pure as a perfume was now her young 

womanhood. 

6 

So they rejoiced, yet they trembled 
With fear for their queen so exalted, 
Lest in youth's beautiful trustfulness. 
Lest in unsuspecting sincerity, 



LAIi'DIJSG OF THE PRINCE 88 LOUISE. 103 

Tliinking no wrong she sliould see none ; 

Clierisliing only pure thoughts, 

She should take to her side a consort unworthy, 

Blasting her vision of bliss 

And breaking the hopes of the nation. 

7 
Bat presently something she said 
That turned away from her the gaze of the people, 
Turned every eye toward the Saxon land, 
Where twenty years agone had been blotted out 
Suddenly the morning-star of their promise. 
There 'neath the light of a lesser Saxon throne 
Stood a youth, Albert, prince of the line. 
Whom the fair young queen, out of a heart of love, 
Had chosen for her spouse. 

On him all England gazed with questioning eyes, 
And all hearts trembled for the queen and the realm. 

8 
Across the German Sea he came 
And sat down by her side. 
Clean and sweet had been 
The budding years of his youth, 
Clean and sweet the half-open 
Years of his manly prime. 
Oh, how the English heart rejoiced 
When they knew 'twas well with their queen and 
them ! 



104 LANDING OF THE P BIN CESS LOUISE. 

Their queen, so lily-chaste, 

So young, so sweet — 

The English heart that made so much of home, 

So much of love — pure, homelike, simple love ; 

The English heart that had seen with shame 

Their proudest seat defiled 

By the scandalous lives of some of their kings. 

Where love should have built the sweetest nest. 

The purest home in the realm. 

9 
Oh, what thanksgivings went up 
From millions of hearts that day 
When over the German Sea the good prince came 
And sat down by the good queen's side! 

Who taketh love to be his guide 

Taketh the best of the world's sweet thought ; 
Who takes not love when he takes his bride. 

Though a throne be his, hath naught, hath 
naught. 

'Twas love gave the prince a royal bride. 
More than a queen — a woman pure and good ; 
'Twas love gave the queen a worthy spouse. 
More than a prince — a pure, sweet, noble man. 
Thus once again in Windsor by the Thames 
Was set the tree of pure, true love. 
Well might the grateful kingdom shout am^en ! 
Well might the people praise the King of kings ! 



LANDING OF THE PniNCESS LOUISE. 105 

10 

Soon came a cherub to that palace-hearth ; 
And England rang with joy-bells once again. 
Husband and wife — father, mother, child — 
Sweet names ! sweeter than prince or king or queen. 
Then climbing out of heaven others came, 
As making haste and eager to come down 
Where such sweet earthly homo awaited them — 
Such pure, sweet j^arent-love awaited them. 

Oh, the wild clatter of the little feet 
That year by year increased 
O'er Windsor's marble halls ! 
Till by and by like summer rain they seemed, 
Dropping a-patter among summer leaves, 

11 

Thus twice ten years passed by and all was peace 
And holy love within that palace-home. 
The little realm 'neath wdse and gentle sway. 
That little, princely, happy realm of home. 
Grew happier, fairer, princelier, day by day. 
The golden light that filled those regal halls 
Spread out like sunshine over all the land, 
And lighted every home where cradles rocked. 
Thus twice ten years passed by, nor word of 
blame 
Against the queen or prince 
AVas heard from any mouth. 



106 LANDING OF THE PniNCESS LOUISE. 

O halcyon days and years ! 

O gentle prince ! O gentle, gentle queen ! 

Unto your blameless lives is homage paid 

In England not alone, but everywhere 

'Mongst every people in whose sacred thought 

Domestic virtue hath an honored place. 

A home unstained in England's highest seat 

Is worth to England more than savage realms 

Acquired, or homage of barbaric kings, 

Boer or Ashantee, Afghan or Ind, 

Kaffir, Zulu, Burman or Soudanese ; 

More than position of advantage gained 

On Europe's chess-board, where, invisible. 

Stands Mephistopheles, guiding the game. 

"What perfume spread to every English home 
From that sweet flower upon thy banks, O Thames! 
Aye, round the world the affluent sweetness ran. 
Enriching, blessing every heart it touched. 
" Albert the Good ! " resounded through the realm. 
" Albert the Good ! " '^Victoria the True ! " 
" Victoria the Good ! " " Albert the True ! " 

12 

This is why the people rejoice ; 

This is why they welcome the princess — • 

The Princess Louise, the lily of women, 

With salvos of guns. 

With flutter of flags, 

With clanging of bells, 



LANDING OF THE P BIN CESS LOUISE. 107 

"Witli the roll of drums and tlie blare of trumpets, 
"With liuzzas that grow louder and nearer j 
F'or so they also render their homage 
To her on the throne, the true-hearted. 
Faithful forever to the dead j^rince, her s^DOuse, 
Who long ago was stricken beside her ; 
Whom in their radiant youth. 
Loving with fondest devotion. 
She had called to share her throne and her glory ; 
True to the sacred charge that, dying, he left her, 
Nobly fulfilling her every motherly duty, 
Giving herself to her children, 
Giving her glory, her queenly state. 
Consenting to be as a little child in her kingdom, 
That they and the realm might be blessed. 
And their father's memory honored forever. 

13 

Therefore the people shout : 

" Welcome The Princess Louise ! 

And God Save the Queen ! " 

And so say we all. 



108- WITHOUT HEP, BLESSING? 



WITHOUT HER BLESSING? 

Art angry witli tliy wife ? and goest forth 

Into tlie liot arena of the day 

Without her blessing ? Is it naught to thee 

Whether or not thou wear the rose of love, 

Of her pure love, upon thy breast ? Oh, shame ! 

Eeturn, my brother ; seek thy wife again ; 

Thou 'It find her heart is heavier e'en than thine. 

Entwine thine arm about her tenderly; 

Wipe off her tears and gently smoothe her brow ; 

Ask her forgiveness for thy hasty words, 

Thy words so cruel-keen. She will protest 

The fault was hers, that she deserved thy blame, 

Though thou do know she 's innocent of fault. 

She loves thee and doth yearn to have thy love. 

How oft when, after heated, angry speech. 
Thou 'st slammed the door, and gone v>dLh hurrj^- 

ing feet 
To mingle with thy fellows, leaving her 
Alone within the narrow walls of home, 
She 's flown into her chamber, shut the door, 
And on her bended knees poured forth to God 
The torrent of her grief ! How has she prayed 
For deeper love to meet thy faltering love ! 



WITHOUT HER BLESSIJVG f 109 

RememberiiiGf thee the father of her babes. 



The husband of her youth, her loviug spouse, 
Her choice among ten thousand ; prayed for love 
Sufficient to forgive thy harshest word, 
For strength to bear thy cruelty, and worst, 
Hardest of all, thy coldness and neglect. 
And when at fall of night thou hast returned, 
"With anger still in thine eyes, and bitterness 
Ux^on thy tongue for her — though all day long 
Among thy fellows thou 'st been smiling-smooth — ■ 
And found her calm, silent, waiting for thee ; 
Thy chair set ready in the favorite spot ; 
Thy slippers placed in order ; and whate'er 
Thy comfort needed and true-love foresaw, 
Provided carefully, how hast refused 
Thy cruel eyes to her entreating glance ! 
Plast turned thy back in churlish disregard 
On each advance she 's made so yearningly ! 
As if she were thy hated enemy 
Instead of — now that mother 's gone to sleep — 
Thy truest friend ; until at last o'ercome. 
Unable to withstand thy cruelty, 
She 's fled, and left thee to commune alone 
With this devil of hatred in thy breast. 

O brother-man, ne'er quarrel with thy wife. 
Nor let a briery hedge of any sort 
Grow up between thy life and hers ; and this 
Not for thy children's sake alone, though that 's 



110 WI Tiro UT HER BLESSIJS G ? 

Of import measureless, but for thine own 
And liers. Bo one, as in the sacrament 
Of marriage ye were called. Be all thy thought 
To make her days more sweet, — surely she hath 
As mother of thy children pangs enough 
That nature doth impose — surrendering 
Thyself, thy wish, thy taste, thy thought, thy life 
If need, that she may be enriched in thee. 
Then wilt thou find thou hast thyself enriched ; 
Thy life, thy thought, thy taste, thy wish, thine all 
Are fuller, larger, sweeter, grander grown. 
For her heart-love transcendeth thine ; it is 
A thing of subtler make, of liner mould. 
While thou art pondering o'er thy gift, she gives ; 
And when thou givest little, siie gives much ; 
And when thou givest much, she giveth more — 
Her wish, her taste, her thought, her very self — 
To make thy days more sweet. And so ye both 
Are blest, enriched by all ye give ; and what 
Ye meant for sacrifice becomes in sooth 
Endowment princeliest. 

O love, thou art 
Divine : lio meaner birth that power hath 
Which so transforms the heart, changing the earth, 
Our common earth, to heaven. 



TFZr^iV FORTUNE FAILS, 111 



WHEN FORTUNE FAILS. 

O brother-man distressed, 
By Fortune once caressed — 
Fortune, whose fickle breast 

Is now grown ccl \ — 
From thy despair arise ; 
Thou hast a Paradise 
In wife's and children's eyes, 

In home-love's fold. 



CHARITY. 

Think find speak kindly of thy fellow-men ; 
Rejoice to see them chaste and strong and wise ; 
And take it as thy shame when one is base. 
Thy life is sweeter for that Plato lived ; 
Grander for Paul ; richer for every chaste, 
Uplifted, manly soul that ever breathed. 
Therefore rejoice to see a noble man; 
Rejoice at every noble quality 



112 BON VOYAGE! 

Ill men, and hold it np in generous praise 
Before tlie eyes of all. Thy neighbor judge 
By his own standards, not by thine. What is 
In thee a fault may be in him a virtue. 
The Quaker by his conscience stands condemned 
If he unsheathe the sword ; the Roman, if 
He sheathe it ere his enemy be slain. 



BON VOYAGE! 

O sweet, expectant bride, 

And lover by her side. 

With True-Love for your guide, 

Your boat, Good-Health, 
Fear not ! In God's name, go ! 
AVait not for winds to blow ; 
Row, oarsman ! stoutly row ! 

Brave hearts are wealth. 



THIS MAKETH TWO. 

Be thou not rude because another 's so ; 
There was but one before ; this maketh two. 



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